Skull in the Family
by Bugaboos
Summary: How bad do you have to be to be cursed by the Tapu? What leads someone to being that bad? Can you come back from that? A Guzma and Team Skull origin story. A prequel to my last fic, Beauty and the Boss. Rated M for descriptions of abuse, language, violence, and alcohol use.
1. Poisons and Antidotes

Ok, so this is my third fic here, and it's a prequel to my last fic, Beauty and the Boss, which was a Guzma/Reader Beauty and the Beast AU. BUT because this is a prequel, you don't have to have read that one to understand this one. Though you might miss out on some easter eggs. All you need to know that's really different, is that Guzma grows up in the mansion that eventually becomes Shady House. Po Town is a gated community for the wealthy that his parents run. Know that, and you're good to go!

This was originally going to be part of a one shot compilation on Ao3 called The Gray Stuff, but it got so long that I decided to make it it's own fic. Check me out on Ao3 under the same username if you haven't already! I've got the same username there. I don't think I'll be bringing that one shot compilation over here, so head on over to good ol' Ao3 if you'd like to see it. You can also find me on Tumblr under Bugaboozma.

* * *

"Ouch!" Guzma recoils away from the couch the Wimpod is hiding under. It's his fifth birthday, and the hissing, snapping pokemon is a gift from his mother. He looks up at her from where he's sitting. "I thought Wimpod were scared."

"He is scared," she says kneeling next to him.

Guzma lays his hands and head on the ground, leaning over and trying to get a look at the tiny isopod pokemon. He hisses and moves further back under the couch, the light glinting off his yellow eyes. "He's not scared. He's just mean."

"Sometimes fear can look like anger."

He sits up, face scrunched in confusion. "But why?"

"When I found him, he was surrounded by some kids who weren't treating him very nicely," his mother explains, simplifying the story in a way her young son will understand. "He's afraid you'll treat him like that too."

"But I won't!"

"He doesn't know that yet. You have to prove you're the antidote; not the poison."

Again his little face gives away how perplexed by this he is.

She reaches in the pocket of her dress and pulls out a few pokebeans. "When people do things that are unkind, it can hurt us and change us. It can make us afraid that it'll happen again. It can poison us." She reaches for Guzma's hand and turns it over, placing the pokebeans in his palm. "That's when we need someone else to be our antidote. Someone who can remind us that there's good too and it can cure the bad."

Guzma looks unsure, holding the beans in his closed hand. "But what if there's too much poison? What if he's just broken?"

"If you give him some time I think you'll find that's not true." She gestures to the couch. "You'll never know until you try."

His eyes move back to the bottom of the couch. Slowly he moves his hand toward it and splays his fingers, revealing the beans. They wait for a tense moment, and then there's the light skittering of feet, and two yellow eyes appear. The Wimpod watches Guzma. Guzma holds his breath. The creature's eyes move from his face to the beans he's holding and then finally it begins to cautiously nibble them from his hand.

Guzma laughs and looks at his mother with absolute delight. The noise causes the pokemon to retreat slightly.

She holds a finger to her lips and Guzma quiets. They both watch patiently until the Wimpod returns to the beans.

"You should always be the antidote if you can," she says softly.

* * *

It would take many years for Guzma to realize how much his mother was the antidote to the things his father had done and said to him. But she was gone now, and at sixteen he was left with only poison.

And it wasn't enough to unleash his cruelty on Guzma. Since his mother's passing, anyone who crossed him in even the slightest way would face his wrath. Like the girl working in this clothing store in front of them right now.

"I told you, sir, I already checked. We don't have that in the back either," she says, her pink and yellow pigtails bobbing as she speaks.

"You were gone all of a minute!" His father's voice is getting progressively louder and Guzma's growing more embarrassed. "I bet you just stood back there! Bet you didn't even check. Lazy fucking teenagers."

Now the girl looks as if she's getting angry as well. "Yelling at me isn't going to make it suddenly appear, sir."

"What's your name?" he asks her, eyes moving to the name tag pinned to her shirt. "Plumeria? Rest assured I'll be speaking to someone about this."

The girl - Plumeria - puts her hands on her hips. "Go ahead! You can have every employee in the store search, jackass, it still won't be there!"

His father's face goes red with anger. Guzma wonders if he might actually hit her for a moment, but he simply turns and storms off in search of higher ups.

The girl flips him off when his back is turned.

Guzma rubs at the back of his neck feeling awkward. "Hey, I'm, uh, sorry about my dad."

She just gives an exasperated sigh, rolls her eyes, and walks away from him.

Guzma follows after his father. When he turns around to look at the girl one more time, she's staring at the ground and slowly pacing, a worried hand on her forehead.

One more person who's sampled the venom.

He tracks the sound of his father's voice until he finds him at the front of the store speaking to what looks like a manager. His face is still discolored and he's waving his arms around dramatically, embellishing everything that had just happened with Plumeria. He was so easily set off these days. Not that his temper wasn't short before, but his mother had a way of quelling it. Usually.

Something outside catches Guzma's eye. Two boys dart by the window and around the corner of the building. Both looked to be about his age, though their heights were drastically different. One was tall, broad, and built, with short hair that was dyed green. The other was shorter, skinnier, and his shaggy hair was blue. Dressed in faded tank tops and baggy shorts, they looked so unlike all the teenagers he's used to seeing.

Only the wealthy are allowed to live in Po Town, and Guzma's parents were the wealthiest of them all. No one within the town looks like these kids; which was something that always fascinated him. He certainly didn't fit in with anyone else his age there - they seemed completely content and comfortable with the luxury and seclusion while he felt bored with it. As a result, he had few friends and none that were close. That his parents were so important within the town didn't help, and if anything, only made this worse. He is rather lonely. Between the lack of friends, the death of his mother, and the angry outbursts from his father, Guzma had become distant, troubled, and quiet. In many ways, it felt as if his voice had been stolen and replaced with a constant unspoken discontent. He wanted something beyond Po Town, and he wondered if he would get along better with people like them.

He watches them disappear out of view, and exits the store, mesmerized. He cautiously peaks around the corner to see both of them tying black bandannas around their necks and lifting them over their mouths and noses, leaving only their eyes and foreheads exposed. What were they doing?

The shorter one reaches into the pocket of his shorts and pulls out a can of spray paint. So they're going to vandalize something? The tall one crouches, allowing the one with the spray paint to sit on his shoulders, where he shakes the can and uncaps it. He begins drawing something with the paint in big, broad strokes of his arm.

There's one eye, then two, a head, teeth - Guzma realizes it's a skull. A simplistic one, but it's not bad considering that the kid's only using spray paint and creating it in a matter of moments.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Guzma whips around and finds his father staring at him. He looks away. "Not doing anything."

His father doesn't question him further. He seems as if he's still too angry about the girl in the store to start nitpicking Guzma's every action. "Let's get back to town. This whole city is an eyesore."

Guzma does not find Malie City an eyesore. In fact, he thinks it's quite the opposite; it's a city alive and teeming with all kinds of people and things. It's not bound by the aesthetics of the wealthy like Po Town is. But he doesn't voice this as he knows it'll break the peace between the two of them. Now that was an activity that he sometimes does willingly when frustration within him boils over. Though right now he's not anxious to make himself his father's new target after the scene in the store. They leave for Po Town.

* * *

He spends the next day thinking about the two kids who had tagged that building. Why a skull? Who were they? Malie City and all its intricacies seem far more appealing than the bland gated community that can feel so much like a prison to him. He was restless and the thought of staying in Po Town grows more unbearable with each day. He had to go see; he had to explore on his own, and potentially pissing off his father is starting to feel like an added benefit. He roots around in his room until he finds his old ride pager - a relic from his short-lived attempt at the island challenge.

Guzma frowns remembering it. That had been a hell of a welcoming home. He feels a flicker of anger at the memories that play behind his eyes. The yelling, the throwing of objects, the slap across the face. His resolve steels further. He has no real plan, but it doesn't matter. He just needed to get out of Po Town for a bit, and the fastest way to do that, was by pressing this button and stepping outside. Maybe he'd find those two guys he saw and ask his questions.

The first place he goes after landing in Malie City is the alleyway where he'd seen them. There, in dripping blue spray paint, is the completed skull. Guzma walks over to it and reaches up, just barely able to touch the bottom of it, as they'd placed it so high. It was just a plain old skull. Why put that on a building? Did it have any meaning? He let's his hand run down the wall and return to his side. Nothing better to do. Might as well try to find them and ask.

He looks down empty alleys, behind buildings, even in the library and in the massive garden the city holds. Occasionally he finds more skulls sprayed in random places, which only piques his curiosity further. He feels like they're leading him in a certain direction, though he can't be sure, but they seem to be getting more plentiful as he goes along. He continues through the city dodging around people and watching the walls for the brightly colored spray paint.

Until he finds himself in front of an abandoned warehouse in a rundown part of the city. It's a large, unkempt building, and its age shows in the faded bricks and mildew. It's covered in spray paint, including numerous skulls.

Guzma sees him through a broken window - the boy with the blue hair.

He runs to the doors of the warehouse, excited to have finally found what he'd spent hours looking for, but he stops. What exactly was he going to do? Just barge in there? He swallows and looks around, trying to think. He doesn't know these people and how they'll react to his sudden presence. He's still deliberating his next move when the door suddenly swings open and reveals the tall kid with the green hair looking down at him. Guzma just stares up, wide-eyed and slack jawed. This guy doesn't look mean - in fact he looks nervous and unsure - but Guzma steps back anyway. He was tall for his age, but this kid was still taller, and stronger. Before Guzma even has a chance to say anything, he grabs him by the back of the shirt and pulls him into the building.

"Hey! Hey, let go of me! Wait!" Guzma yells struggling to get out of his grip and failing. He's dragged along in the building, panicking, unable to wrench himself out of the kid's hands while trying to keep his feet from going out underneath him. He has no choice but to stumble along, kicking up dust and dirt. The front door leads into an enormous empty room that maybe once held machinery. Their footsteps echo off the walls as he pulls Guzma across it. Then they're though another door and into what must have been the administrative wing. Offices line the hallway on either side and some even have old placards hanging on them. Down a hallway, around a corner, through a door, and then he's thrown to the ground.

"Saw you outside," says a girl from behind a laptop. She doesn't even look at him. "Cameras."

"Yeah," this from the blue-haired boy who he's finally getting a good look at for the first time. He's standing up from an old, rusted office desk he was perched on. He's all worn clothes, cuts and bruises, and a face that's trying very hard to look menacing, but can't hide the mirth in his eyes. "What are you doing here, huh?"

Guzma gets to his feet and is quiet for a moment. Now that he's about to speak it aloud, his reasoning feels silly. But aside from the green-haired kid, the three of them don't seem so tough. He's not intimidated. "Saw you tag that building yesterday."

The blue-haired kid looks surprised. "So. You got something to say about it?"

"Why a skull?"

Another confused look. This was clearly not a conversation he expected to be having with some random person. "Why anything? It just is. It's my calling card, ya know?"

"That's it? There's really no meaning behind it?" He's not sure what he expected, but he'd hoped for a better explanation than that.

"You came here to ask me about-"

The door opens and a girl's voice says, "Liam, what the hell was that? Someone here?"

Guzma turns and finds that it's the girl from the clothing store - Plumeria - of all people. She stops when she sees him.

"Eh, it's just some kid, Plumes," the blue-haired guy, who's name is apparently Liam, says.

Plumeria continues to stare at him, scrutinizing. "Wait, I know him. You're that kid from yesterday." She walks towards him, pointing a finger, anger etched on her face. "Came in with your jackass dad. You're from Po Town, you rich brat. Your dad got me fired!"

Liam crosses his arms. "That what this is? Come to apologize, huh?"

"No," Guzma tells them. "How was I supposed to know I'd find her here?"

"So what then? Rich kid come to laugh at the poor kids? Whaddya want a tour of how the other half lives?"

Guzma feels his temper flare within him. He was not just some spoiled rich kid. At least, he didn't think so. And he certainly didn't come here to sight-see. "No, I just-" But what did he come here for? To try and make friends? It's not like he can actually say that.

Liam seems to pick up on this without him even saying anything. "What, you just came here to hang out?" He looks to the others in the room, silently communicating something. "Ok, kid, show me what you got?"

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

Liam smiles at him. "A fight."

Now this Guzma could do. He reaches for a pokeball. "You got it."

"Nah, not a pokemon battle."

Guzma pauses. "What?"

Liam reaches into his pocket, pulls something out, and tosses it to him.

Guzma catches it and looks at the object in his hand. It's a pocket knife. Confused, he looks back up at Liam, who's unfolding his own knife.

"Liam, just leave the kid alone," Plumeria says, crossing her arms. The green-haired boy just watches, looking worried and the girl on the laptop just continues to clack away.

"Eh, it'll be fine, Plumes. I won't hurt him. Probably." He moves towards Guzma and slashes at the air in front of him.

Guzma steps back and hurries to unfold his knife. He feels fear and panic, but also, strangely, excitement. A knife fight was certainly new territory for him. The two of them circle each other now, knives in hand. Still, did this guy really mean this? Maybe he should try to talk his way out of it. "This really necessary?"

Liam laughs. "Nah, this is just for fun." He takes another swipe at Guzma, nearly missing his arm.

"Fun?" He wonders what he could mean by that. Did he actually find the possibility of being stabbed fun? He avoids another jab and is silently thankful for some of the dance classes and other things he had been forced to take when he was younger. He'd always found them pretentious and aggravating, but he had to admit it made him nimble when he needed to be. Guzma takes an experimental swing at Liam who moves out of the knife's path.

"Yeah, fun. Got that where ya come from?" He swipes again and this time he leaves a cut on Guzma's hand.

Guzma yells in pain and strikes back, catching Liam on the arm.

Liam makes no noise but moves back. "Hey, you actually got lucky, money bags."

Guzma moves in again, but Liam avoids him. "Not my money."

"But it's your dad's." Liam swings the knife wide, leaving a cut along Guzma's arm.

Guzma backs up, wiping at the fresh blood. "Yeah, but he's an asshole."

Plumeria huffs. "True, I don't envy having to live with that prick."

Liam moves toward him. "Think bein' an asshole is just part of bein' a dad. What about your mom, huh? She a bitch?"

Guzma has never heard anyone call his mother that; not even his father, for all the disagreements they'd had in their marriage. It'd been a year since his mom's passing, but the hurt from it still feels fresh. To hear her insulted sets off something within him. In a rage, he yells out and goes for the kid's knife hand, digging his knife into the knuckles.

Liam yells, droping his knife and Guzma lunges, tackling him to the ground. He straddles Liam, gritting his teeth, with the knife poised over his chest. "My mom's dead! And she wasn't a bitch!"

Liam just stares up at him, eyes wide. He blinks up at Guzma, who's still on top of him, breathing heavy. Then his face relaxes and he starts to laugh.

Guzma slumps, bewildered. what was wrong with this guy?

Liam keeps laughing as he pushes at Guzma. "Yeah, yeah, alright, kid. You made your point. Get off of me."

Guzma stands, still confused.

Liam gets up, smirking at the look on Guzma's face. "What did ya think it was to the death? Told ya it was just for fun!"

Guzma rubs at the back of his neck. "So-"

"Eyy, you wanna hang out? Whatever. Hang out. We can swap sad stories, right?"

Guzma feels completely bewildered by Liam. What a strange guy. He was right; these kids are nothing like the ones in Po Town.

Liam opens the drawer of the old metal desk and pulls out a box. "Here," He hands Guzma band-aids. "They ain't diamond studded or nothin' but they do the job."

Guzma takes them, still fixing Liam with complete bafflement.

"You're sure quiet. Come on, I'll get us started on the sad stories." He wipes the blood from his hand down his shirt and then extends it to Guzma. "I'm Liam."

Guzma slowly takes his hand and shakes it. "Guzma."

Liam grins at him. "Guzma, huh? Guzma from Po Town gonna grow up to be the boss one day, right? Hey, that's what I'm gonna call you, eyy boss? Don't take it as a compliment."

"Uh, ok." How much energy did this kid have?

Liam continues, gesturing to the warehouse around them. "This is home."

"You all live here?"

"Yeah, and it's just as sad as it seems. Ya gotta have some sob story to get here. Me? My parents kicked me out. Said I was too much trouble, couldn't focus, good for nothin', the whole nine yards."

Guzma just nods, feeling overwhelmed by the boundless enthusiasm Liam seems to have, even while talking about things that were a little less than happy.

Liam points to the green-haired kid. "That's Jeremy. Say hi, Jer."

Jeremy looks nervous. He just waves at Guzma. Guzma waves back.

"Jeremy's the muscle, but he's real shy and real quiet. That's ok though! That's just how he is. But you," Liam looks Guzma up and down. "I think we can get you to talk." He turns back to Jeremy. "Wanna share, Jer?"

Jeremy wipes at his nose and swallows anxiously. "Parents died. Had nowhere else to go I suppose."

Before Guzma even has a chance to respond, Liam's moved on to the girl with the laptop. "This one's Sweet Tooth."

Guzma raises an eyebrow. "Sweet Tooth?"

"Yep. But we call her Sweets. Right, Sweets?" Liam waves his hand between the laptop and the girl.

She blinks, gives Liam an annoyed look and lowers the screen a bit to talk to them. She's got wavy shoulder-length hair dyed pastel purple and thick-rimmed glasses the same shade. Her makeup all looks very carefully applied, including long, fake eyelashes. There's some kind of device strapped to her wrist that looks like a large, square watch. Everything about her is soft colors and tech. She smiles at Guzma. "Hello."

"Yeah, she's as sweet as her name... if you can get her away from all her screens. She's our resident hacker."

"Well, I don't think 'hacker' is really a fitting-"

"Hacker. Go with it. It sounds cool," Liam interrupts.

Sweets laughs. "Fine, I'm the hacker."

"You joining in on the backstory party?"

She looks away a moment then meets Guzma's eyes. "Kicked out. Parents weren't happy about me being a girl. You know?"

Guzma looks at Liam confused. Was there more to this that he wasn't understanding?

"She's trans; don't worry about it!" Liam tells him.

Guzma looks back at Sweets but she just gives him another smile and returns to her laptop.

"You all sure like hair dye," Guzma notes. He almost feels out of place with his jet black hair.

"Aesthetics! Shit's important." He gestures to Guzma's hair. "What color you thinkin', huh?"

Guzma shakes his head. "I don't know if the bright colors are my thing."

Liam nods. "Well hey, how do you feel about white then?"

"I-" Guzma hadn't ever seriously considered changing his hair color before.

"Worry about it later! We've got one more person on our tour of sadness." He points to Plumeria. "You've apparently met Plumes."

Plumeria had been leaning against the doorway with Jeremy and looking none too amused at their antics. "Yeah. It was great."

"She's been pretty upset since yesterday," Liam says.

Plumeria crosses her arms.

"And pretty upset now. Plumeria's the big sis of the group. You know, like a mom friend! And her story's a little different from ours. Took things into her own hands. Wanna tell em what you did, Plumes?"

She glares at Guzma. "I ran away. And I was the only one of us who went and got a job and now it's gone."

Guzma's starting to feel defensive. She really blamed him for her getting fired? "I didn't do anything. That was all my dad."

Plumeria steps away from the wall towards him. "Exactly, you didn't do anything. You just stood there."

"Look, you don't know my dad, alright? There's nothing I could have done. Woulda just made things worse."

Liam steps between them. "Hey, maybe there's a way we can fix this."

"How?" she crosses her arms again.

"We get a little revenge!"

"Revenge on me?" Guzma asks.

"No, no," Liam says. "Revenge on the store! And to make up for it, you're coming with us."

Plumeria looks uncertain. "I don't know, Liam."

"We'll just break in and take some shit. Nothing they'll miss! They won't know anything, but you'll know, and that's good enough, right?"

Plumeria glances around the room, thinking. Then she fixes her cold eyes on Guzma. "Fine, as long as he has to take part too. Bet you've never done something like this, rich boy. It'll be good to see you nervous."

Her attitude towards him only makes Guzma want to prove himself even more. He puts his hands on his hips and stares daggers right back at her. "I'm not nervous. Let's do this." Besides, maybe this could be fun.

Liam claps him on the back. "Yeah, boss! Let's fuckin' do it!"


	2. This is more about peace o' mind

It was true that Guzma had never really done anything like this before. He might have caused occasional trouble around Po Town and he could certainly get on his father's nerves in the mansion, but breaking into someplace and stealing? More new territory. All five of them are around the corner from the store now. It's the middle of the night and he's wondering if his father has noticed he's missing yet. There's no one about but them and no lights but the streetlights. Inside the clothing store is completely dark.

Despite denying it, he is a bit nervous. This wasn't so much due to being afraid of getting caught, but more so worry that he'd do something wrong here; that he'd mess up their plans somehow. For the first time in a while, he feels as if he's actually having... fun. Being in a group with them almost feels like having friends and it eases some of the loneliness he's held. Plus, Liam's effervescence is infectious. He's a very strange kid, but Guzma can't help but want to get to know him more; to get to know all of them more. He wants to be part of this group and he's hoping this little adventure will be his way in.

"I told you that I'm not really a hacker. I'm more of a coder? I program things, I don't break into them," Sweets tells Liam.

"But, you have before. You could!" He tells her, giving her what is clearly supposed to be puppy-dog eyes.

She smiles and shakes her head, her purple waves swaying with the movement. "Yeah, yeah, alright Liam, I'll see what I can do." She pulls Plumeria off to the side with her, where they both work on a laptop.

Jeremy's leaning against the wall below the skull he and Liam had placed. He still hasn't said anything else to Guzma and he seems to be avoiding eye contact with everyone. Since his mother's passing, Guzma had grown more quiet, but it wasn't due to shyness like it obviously was with Jeremy. Why was this guy always so anxious?

Liam gives Guzma a grin. "You ready for this, boss?"

"Depends." Guzma rubs at the back of this neck. "What's the plan?"

"Plumes and Sweets are working on taking out the security cameras. Once that's done, we pick the lock, get inside, take what we want, and get out. Jeremy will stand guard."

"That's it?" Guzma feels a little surprised. When they'd said "revenge" he thought they maybe meant to mess the place up a bit. There was the possibility that he was even hoping for that.

Liam shrugs. "Plumes just got fired, you know? They'd probably suspect her if we did anythin' more. Nah, this is more about peace o' mind." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a square of black cloth. "Here, I have an extra," he says, handing it to Guzma.

Guzma takes it and unfolds it. It's a black bandanna. He looks up at Liam.

He's already tying his own bandanna around his nose and mouth. "Just in case."

He follows Liam's lead and ties the bandanna around his head, feeling some kind of tingle from the novelty of it all. Now wearing this would certainly make him look like a delinquent. That thought gives him pause. Why exactly was he doing this? Was he just some rich kid playing tourist to these poor kids lives? He didn't want to be that, but that doesn't mean he isn't. It feels impossible to say for sure, but his own denial almost seems like confirmation. Still, the sense of belonging he feels with this group of misfits is something he can't ignore. Besides, what else could he do now? Nothing to do but to press forward and figure it out later.

"We got it!" Sweets says. She and Plumeria come back over to them. "Plumeria was familiar with their camera systems, which made things a little easier. But yeah! The next hour on all the cameras is just going to be a loop of the previous hour. They'll never see us here!"

Liam crosses his arms and nods. "Hacker."

Plumeria gives Guzma an icy stare when she notices the bandanna. "Well, you're sure taking to this."

For as welcoming as Liam is, Plumeria's coldness makes him doubt himself even more. Maybe he didn't belong with them either. Did he belong anywhere? Time to find out. "Did you really think I was gonna be that chickenshit about this?" He fires back at her.

She takes her own bandanna out of her pants pocket. "We'll see how you feel once we're inside, rich boy."

She was definitely the challenge here. Sweets and Jeremy didn't seem to care one way or another if Guzma was there or not. But Plumeria? She would have to be won over. It was just a matter of figuring out how.

Around the corner Jeremy is playing lookout as Liam works at the door lock. He seems frustrated, with a string of curses coming from his mouth as he bends over the mechanism, two different tools in his hands.

"Hey, lemme try?" Guzma asks.

All four of them turn and look at him. Liam's hands fall from the lock. "You ever done this before?"

"Yeah, plenty of times." Which was true, but he wasn't sure how much it would help to tell them that this had mostly been picking the locks of doors around the mansion. Figuring out lock picking to get to your Wimpod, whom your dad had hidden away as punishment doesn't sound as badass as learning to pick locks on the streets. Still, it was a skill he'd used to survive his father's tirades, and yes, to occasionally raise a little hell.

Liam and Plumeria exchange looks. Then Liam shrugs and offers the tools in his hands to Guzma. He takes them and stares down at them for a moment a little amazed. These were actual lock picking tools - far better than using whatever he could find in the mansion to get the job done. He'd relied on things like paperclips and hangers, among other things. Not only had it taken forever, he'd cut his hands a few times doing it. This would be different, but possibly easier.

Luckily the lock here was similar to the one at the entrance to the mansion. He'd picked that one before to get back inside after sneaking out a couple times. He carefully inserts the tools, listening and feeling for the ways in which they should be turned and jabbed. A bit to the right, right again, the left, and nothing. Guzma fails a couple times with the unfamiliar tools. Then on the third try, he feels all the tumblers fall smoothly into place. There's a small "click" sound and the front door to the store is unlocked. Guzma grins under the bandanna, relieved that he'd been able to do it.

Liam claps him on the back. "Hey! Not bad, boss."

Sweets gives him a bright smile before pulling her bandanna over her nose. Jeremy just continues to watch the street, and Plumeria, of course, still looks unimpressed. She slowly opens the door and they all quietly make their way inside, leaving Jeremy to stand guard.

They spread out within the store. Guzma watches as Liam begins sifting through racks, occasionally pulling off an item of clothing and adding it to the small pile he's got slung over his arm. Sweets immediately went for the makeup counter, placing containers and tubes in a bag she'd brought with her. Plumeria so far only has one thing in her hands - a dress that's light gray and purple. There's the pattern of a Wimpod tail along the bottom of it.

Liam laughs when he sees her holding it. "That's what you're taking?"

Plumeria puts a hand on her hip. "Hey! I think it's kinda cute. Besides, you never know when you'll need something that's not black."

"It is cute!" Sweets adds from behind the makeup counter.

"Yeah, yeah ok." Liam turns to Guzma. "You not takin' anything?"

So far Guzma had only watched as the others rummaged about for things they wanted. Truthfully, it wasn't like he needed to take anything here. After all, he didn't live in an abandoned warehouse like they did. And though his father was often unkind, he didn't deny him new clothes. If anything, forcing Guzma to maintain a certain appearance helped his dad maintain a certain appearance of his own within the town and beyond. In fact, that his son was such a misfit in the town often seemed to be a source of embarrassment for him. Still, clothes were not something Guzma needed. But he figures that what they're doing right now wasn't about necessity.

He begins to root through some sunglasses on a nearby spinning rack. There's a pair that are perfectly round that he's considering, but when he picks them up, the ones behind them catch his eye. One lens is circular like the other pairs on that particular rack, but the other is lopsided, with one side flat where it shouldn't be. Almost like a sun and half moon. He huffs. "What's up with these?"

Plumeria comes toward him and takes them from his hands, looking them over. "Strange. Just a defect I suppose." She hands them back to Guzma. "Plenty of others there anyway."

Guzma holds the sunglasses so that the lenses are looking back at him. Different, yeah, but maybe not quite defective. At the very least they were unique compared to the rest. He kinda liked them. He puts them over his eyes.

"Really?" Plumeria says, a hand back on her hip.

Guzma pushes the glasses up onto his forehead until they're resting in his hair. "Yeah, really," he says with as much sarcasm as he can muster.

She rolls her eyes at him and leaves to join Sweets in makeup looting.

"Eyy don't worry about Plumes!" He turns to find Liam with his arms full of clothes. "She'll come around. You just gotta-"

The front door opens and Jeremy yells, "There's a someone coming! Think it's a cop!"

"Shit! Fucking hide!" Liam says, running with his bundle of clothes to a circular rack and slipping between the hanging garments.

Plumeria and Sweets duck down behind the counter. Jeremy hides behind the front desk and register. Guzma stands, panic rising within him for a moment, before tucking himself in a small space between two racks of shoes near the makeup counter.

Everyone is silent. He looks over and sees Plumeria huddled together with Sweets. Sweets looks frightened, clutching to Plumeria, who looks more exasperated than anything. She's just staring straight ahead at nothing, a hand placed comfortingly around Sweets. He can only imagine what it must feel like to be so close to getting caught robbing the store that just fired you.

There's the sound of the front door opening and closing behind whoever's just come in. Then there's slow footsteps that sound so heavy in the quiet tension of the dark store. A beam from a flashlight darts across the clothing racks. "Hello?" asks a voice - a familiar voice. Why does he know that voice?

The steps continue. "Look, you'd better just come out. Door was unlocked so someone's clearly in here. I won't be leaving until you do."

He knows this voice. As quietly as he can Guzma shifts so that he can get a look at whoever's come in.

It's a man in a police uniform. He takes a few more careful steps around the store, his footsteps impossibly and terrifyingly loud. Then he turns, and Guzma recognizes him as the cop who lives outside Po Town and a family friend: Nanu.

Guzma feels the pinprick of fear along his spine as Nanu walks toward the makeup counter. He twists back around in his position and looks over to the two girls hiding there. Plumeria is staring right back at him. They hold each other's gaze. Her expression is one of sadness and resignation. She's going to get caught and she knows it. Sweets is shaking. Plumeria continues to look into his eyes.

Guzma's mind races. Would Nanu arrest him? Would he really do that while being on such good terms with his father? He can't imagine he would. Getting caught here like this has far different implications for him than it does for these other kids. They don't have the father he does.

Nanu's almost to the makeup counter now. Any second he'll find the girls hiding there. Guzma sighs, steeling himself, then he scoots out of the space he's wedged himself into. "Over here!" he says, standing.

Nanu whips around, shining the light towards him, causing Guzma to raise an arm in front of his face at the brightness. "What are you doing here, kid?" Nanu asks angrily.

Guzma pulls the bandanna down, revealing the rest of his face.

Nanu drops the light from him in surprise. "Guzma?"

"Yeah." Guzma avoids Nanu's eyes. "Yeah, it's me."

"What in the hell are you doing? Does your dad know you're out?"

Guzma rolls his eyes. "Didn't know I needed his permission to be out and about."

"This looks like a little more than out and about." Nanu starts walking towards him. "You know how lucky you are right now?"

Guzma shrugs. "Got caught, didn't I? Sure don't seem lucky."

Nanu points at him. "If you or I were anyone else, this would be playing out a little differently. Now come on, let's get you home. Dad's probably wondering where you are anyway."

Guzma glares at Nanu. He gives one last quick glance to Plumeria, who looks back at him wide-eyed, and reluctantly drags his feet toward the officer. They both exit the store, Nanu telling him, "Can't you keep your trouble making to Po Town, huh?"

Guzma doesn't return to the abandoned warehouse for three days. Of course, showing up back home in the middle of the night with Nanu had gone about as well as could be expected with his dad. But, now that he was away on a business trip, slipping out of the mansion suddenly became a lot easier.

He stops in front of the warehouse doors and looks around until he spots what must be a camera taped to a window ledge. He really did need to ask them a few things about this place. How did they have electricity? Did they have running water? He waves to the camera, hoping Sweets will see that he's there. Sure enough, the door opens. But this time it's not Jeremy ready to drag him inside; instead it's Liam and Plumeria.

Liam's all smiles as usual, and Plumeria's as stoic as ever, but it was a nice change from the glares she'd given him previously. The cheerfulness falls from Liam's face and Plumeria's eyes bulge when they see him.

After Nanu had gone, his dad had spent the next hour screaming at him. By the end of it, Guzma had been left with a split lip and a black eye. Three days hadn't been much time for either injury to heal, and he knows that this is what Liam and Plumeria are staring at now.

Liam pulls him inside the warehouse saying, "Dude, boss, what happened?"

"It's - don't worry about it." Guzma says, looking away from their concerned faces and rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck.

"Your dad did this?" Plumeria asks. When Liam turns to her she adds, "What? He said his dad's an asshole."

Guzma can't bring himself to look at either of them. "I mean, yeah, but, at least no one got arrested or anything." He finally gives them a sideways glance.

Liam puts a hand on his arm. "Look, you ever need a place to come, you can always come here, ok?"

Guzma just nods, wanting to move past the subject of his dad, but also unable to articulate how much such a sentence means to him. Did he finally have a place to belong? A friend group? They were really ok with him then? Even-

"So listen," Plumeria says. "Thank you, for that."

"Don't - don't mention it."

She gives him a small half-smile - the warmest expression she's shown him thus far. "You're alright, G."

He returns the smile, relieved. Maybe even the two of them could be on friendly terms after all.

"Yeah, yeah, ok. Enough mushiness." Liam interrupts. Boss, you've gotta see what Jeremy's doing. He's just crushing cans on his forehead. Like it's nothin'! You ever tried to do that? I mean, they're empty cans, but still."

Guzma laughs at Liam's enthusiasm and follows them back towards where Jeremy and Sweets are waiting, feeling the most at home he's felt anywhere in over a year.


	3. Is this worth anything that might happen

His father had never laid a hand on his mother. Their marriage was often rocky behind closed doors, and though they would have many loud arguments, it had never come to blows. He might scream at her or occasionally break something, but for all his bluster he could never harm her. His father came from old money and another region. His mother was an Alolan native whose family never had much. He loved her, and this love was the leverage that kept him from harming her.

But Guzma was a different story.

The first time it happens is when he's seven. His father was often away on business trips and this absence left room to grow to idolize him. Dad was still his hero back then. His father took pride in all he had built with his wealth, including the mansion and Po Town, and anyone who blemished this in anyway would find themselves at the wrong end of his quick temper.

Guzma had spent most of the day at a friends house within the town. His friend's parents had recently paid for a muralist to paint the walls of their son's room with whatever he pleased. The kid's room was covered in an epic battle between an Incineroar and a Salamence. The scene was richly painted with fire and flames and tore up earth. Guzma had never seen anything like it. He was in complete awe. It was so different from the walls of his room which were nearly entirely bland and pristine. He sat and stared at the art until he'd made up his mind that he wanted something like that for his room. It sparked something in him and it was a feeling he wanted to bring home with him.

He rushed back to his room, ignoring the voice telling him that this was not something he was allowed to do; that this was a bad idea. He got out a paint set and confronted one of the bare walls. But he needed a subject, and there would be none better than his favorite pokemon. Guzma reaches into his pocket, pulling out a pokeball and releasing his Wimpod.

It had taken nearly half a year of patience on his part to earn the trust and affection of his isopod pokemon, but now they were inseparable. The Wimpod chitters at him and then climbs up his leg to his head, where it sits on top in his hair; his usual hangout spot.

Now, with the audience of his pokemon, Guzma dips a brush into a container of black paint and puts an experimental stroke on the wall. There's something about doing what he knows he's not supposed to that sets a tingle within him. This was fun, and besides, the wall already looked better. He paints another line, and another. He keeps going, dipping the brush in whites and purples and yellows, until there is a dripping, scribbly Wimpod painted on his wall. He steps back and smiles at it. Maybe his parents would see how much better all the colors were and maybe they wouldn't be mad. Maybe.

He looks up to the pokemon on his head and points to his creation. "That's you."

The Wimpod trills happily.

There's the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. They're heavy steps that are so different from his mother's or any of the maids that worked in the mansion. He realizes with horror that it's his father. He scrambles to put the paints away, but what to do about the paint on the wall? All he can do as the door opens, is stand in front of it.

"Guzma we're going to-" He stops when he sees the paint on the wall behind his son. His face contorts into anger. "What did you do?!"

Guzma looks up at his father guiltily. "My friend had a painting on his walls and I just-"

"How old are you? Nine? You know better than this!"

Guzma was not nine. He was seven and he just wanted the walls of his room to be the way he wanted. He feels a defiance growing in him. "But it's my room!"

His dad crosses the room to him, his face almost a snarl. "I don't recall you paying for it."

The Wimpod on his head gives nervous chirps at his father's closeness. Guzma doesn't back down. "It's still my room! I'm here more than you!"

He grabs Guzma roughly by the arm and spins him around to face the paint. Wimpod flees to the ground and skitters under the bed to hide. "These are not your walls to fuck up. Do you see this mess you've made?"

"It's not a mess! I want it there."

"You're gonna clean this up!"

"I won't!"

His father shoves him into the wall, hard, so that the side of his face is pressed painfully into the wall. The paint is cold and wet against his skin. The impact with the wall is so sudden and harsh that the air is knocked from him. He stays there, smashed into the wall, eyes wide with shock. His father had been angry with him before, but he had not hurt him. Nothing cements a memory into the mind like fear, and the fear he feels in this moment stays with him. This is the instant in which his dad is no longer his hero. Tears begin to slide down his face.

"Let go of him!" His mother's voice.

His father releases his grip on him. Guzma falls to the ground.

"You see what he's done!"

His mother rushes over to him, hugging him to her. Tears and paint from his face begin to stain her blouse. "What's he's done? Look what you've done! It's just paint! We can clean it up or paint over it. It's not worth hurting him."

"I did not hurt him! He's fine."

"Don't you see him?"

"He needs to toughen up," his father says, pointing to him. "You've babied him."

His mother stands, glaring at his father with a commanding iciness. "If you ever lay a hand on him again, we will both be gone."

There's silence for a moment. Then his father waves a hand dismissively at the both of them and leaves. Guzma watches him go. Pieces of his trust and innocence walking out the door with him.

To appease his father, his Wimpod was painted over, but there hadn't been enough layers over it. When you looked closely, there was the faint impression of it still there - a reminder of this first time for all the years he called that room his. A reminder of what happens when he steps outside his father's wishes.

* * *

Any chance he gets, Guzma is at that warehouse. It's more welcoming than the mansion by far. The five of them form a group like nothing he's ever been a part of in Po Town. Liam in particular starts to become what he would call a best friend - something he's never had before. The more time he spends around them, the more he notices himself adopting things from them; certain words or phrases, his manner of dress, and he's even planning on letting Sweets dye his hair. He had indeed decided to go with white, as Liam had suggested. Much to his father's chagrin, he really was starting to take to the black and white look the others (aside from pastels Sweets favors) have.

More than anything though, he realizes he's starting to find his voice again. Liam was right: they were getting him to talk. This maybe meant that all of his smart ass remarks were now said aloud instead of silently kept, but the group didn't mind. In fact, they seemed to find it hilarious. His dad? Not so much. He was none too pleased with him at the moment. Not that he was ever pleased with Guzma, but their arguments are getting worse. His burgeoning attitude and newfound friends might make him feel a sense of belonging, but they were also in direct opposition to what his father considered "good behavior."

Liam and Plumeria even tried to convince him to move into the warehouse each time he showed up with new bruises or other evidence of a bad time with his dad. But he just couldn't. Not yet. There was still school, which was an expensive endeavour he still feels compelled to finish for now. But even more than that, is the feeling that leaving the mansion would mean leaving behind the memory of his mother - something he's just not ready to do. Someday maybe, but for now he'd lead a bit of a double life: One in which he's a wealthy son of Po Town and one in which he's a delinquent on the streets. And he'd do what he must to keep up these two lives, even if it meant things like sneaking out and deliberately disobeying his father.

For much of his life, his father had manged to show him a mixture of disinterest and fierce disappointment. It left Guzma feeling as if he wasn't worth paying attention to, and on the rare occasion that he was, he would never measure up. That kind of rejection had always been hard to ignore. But now? Now what's hard to ignore is the want to do things that would piss his father off just because. Or maybe, in spite of him being pissed off. That had become something he had to learn to decipher too: which of his actions were things he genuinely wanted to do, and which were open rebellion? At the very least, what he's about to do now he knows is for him. His father may not like it, but there's something about changing more about his appearance than just his clothes that feels right; that feels like becoming more like the person he wants to be.

So now he sits in a chair near a drain in the warehouse surrounded by buckets and containers of water. There's tables set up too, filled with all kinds of makeup, hair products, tubes, bottles, and more that he can't even begin to parse. All of it is Sweets' stash. She's busying herself with setting out bleach and toner for his hair as he glances around nervously at everything.

Changing this much about his appearance feels like a bigger step and a more noticeable rebellion. It might feel right, and it might be what he wants, but with this more drastic change he can't set aside the anxiety that comes with wondering how his father will react. He rubs at the back of his neck.

Sweets glances over at him. "What is it?" she asks. Having been through her fair share of hard times, Sweets was very adept at picking up on people's emotions. She clearly did her best to be caring and understanding. Plumeria might be the "big sister" of the group, with her no nonsense way of speaking and her protectiveness, but Sweets had her beat when it came to putting someone at ease.

"Nothin'" Guzma tells her, crossing his arms.

She gives him a warm smile. "Oh please, you think we haven't all figured out what you putting your hand behind your head means? What's up?"

Guzma gives her a sarcastic grin, trying a little too obviously to cover up his nerves. "Hey, we gonna get started on this, or what?"

"This is about your dad, isn't it?"

What, was she psychic? He drops the grin and looks away from her. "I mean, yeah, I guess."

"We don't have to do this, you know." She reassures him.

"I - I want to do this."

Sweets sets down the tools in her hands and bends down in front of him so that their eyes meet. "Are you sure? If you're worried about what your dad will do-"

"No! It's fine. Let's do this."

She's quiet for a moment, carefully watching him. "Is this worth anything that might happen?" she asks slowly.

Guzma gives her a resolute look. "Absolutely."

Sweets smiles. "Well, that's all I needed to hear!"

"Yeah, don't worry about my dad. It's fine. Won't blame you if something happens anyway," Guzma says, relaxing into the chair.

She picks up an electric razor from the table and stands behind him. "Well, here's hoping there's no price to pay simply for doing what you want with your own hair."

Guzma just grunts in agreement, wishing she would start so that there wouldn't even be any choice to consider anymore.

"Ready to become one of us?" Sweets asks, giggling.

He gives her a half smile. "Couldn't be more ready."

She flicks on the razor and begins to run it up his neck and around his head, buzzing it short, creating an undercut leaving the hair on top untouched.

Guzma watches as bits of black hair fall around him. Then his eyes come to rest on the containers of water about them that will be used later. The both of them had hauled the water back to the warehouse after filling up at a neighbors hose down the street. Due to what was probably some oversight (and a little insurance from Sweet's hacking prowess that it remain oversight) the warehouse still had electricity. They were careful when and how it was used, lest it be noticed that there's lights on in the abandoned warehouse.

They did not, however, have running water, which was what made filling the containers from a hose necessary to bleach his hair. To shower, the four of them shared a gym membership and they would go in one at a time to use the facilities. Plumeria's job had paid for this, and since her firing, they scrambled to get the money together for the monthly payment. Going to the bathroom meant running to a nearby gas station, or, if they were feeling brave enough, just taking a quick piss out back. Definitely a far cry from the mansion, but for a bunch of teenagers they did alright.

Sweets shuts off the razor as she finishes and sets it down on a table.

Guzma reaches behind his head to feel the undercut. He admits to himself that he kinda likes the bristly feeling of it, which certainly won't help his nervous habit. There's a sudden sharp smell, and he looks up to see Sweets coming toward him with a bowl of bleach and a brush, ready for the next phase of his drastic hair change. As she begins to coat the longer pieces of hair left behind on the top of his head, he asks her, "How - how are you into all this makeup and hair shit and then also the computer shit?"

Sweets huffs. "What do you mean, hmm?" She seems to know exactly what he means, and yet wants to hear him say it.

"It's just all this stuff is so girly, and the hacking kinda... isn't. Right?"

"And what makes you say that?"

"I, uh, well."

She laughs as he struggles to formulate an explanation before telling him, "These things aren't inherently 'girly' or 'manly;' they're just things. Hobbies, you know?"

"Yeah, but, I dunno. Anyone ever give you a hard time for it?"

"Sometimes," Sweets says softly, continuing to paint the bleach onto his hair. "There's definitely those in some of the groups I'm in online who might not take me seriously if they saw me all dolled up. It's happened in person." She finishes and places the bowl aside before leaning against one of the tables and setting a timer on the device strapped to her wrist for the bleach. "But you know, I think that's their problem, not mine."

"So it doesn't bother you? You don't feel like you have to hide things? Tone it down?"

She smiles at Guzma. "I like looking like this. And besides, I'm not sure that it would matter if I did. Even if I tried to be everything they wanted me to be, someone is still gonna be disappointed. And who knows what I'd sacrifice to try and reach that. If people are gonna be unhappy anyway, you might as well do what you want and try to make yourself happy."

Guzma swallows nervously. Sweets had clearly reached a point he hadn't yet. He wishes he could ignore his desperate search for his father's approval despite knowing it'll never truly come.

"Hey," she says, bringing his attention back to her and fixing him with a tenacious grin. "Fuck your dad."

He laughs. Surely Sweets must be some kinda psychic. "Yeah, fuck him."

She nods to the buckets of water and drain. "Good. Now let's get that bleach out of your hair."

They rinse the bleach, apply the toner, then rinse that too when it's time. A short blow dry later and his hair is complete.

Sweets picks up a mirror from the table, then hesitates. She sets it back down on the table, and turns to him, biting her lip. "There's just one more thing I wanna do. You trust me?"

Guzma's a bit taken aback. "Um, sure." When she begins to rummage through one of the piles of cosmetics he becomes a bit alarmed. "Makeup?"

Sweets makes her selection and comes toward him. "Just one thing." She laughs at the look on his face. "It won't kill you, I swear. Just close your eyes, ok?"

He gives her one last dubious look before relenting and shutting his eyes. There's the new sensation of something being painted over his eyelid and around his eye. He doesn't know much about makeup, but he's heard enough to know it's probably eyeshadow.

She stops and a few seconds later there's a scraping sound as she picks the mirror up off the table. "Ok," she tells him. "You can look now."

Guzma opens his eyes to see Sweets holding the mirror out in front of her so he can see himself. His hair is now two-toned, with the undercut remaining black while the longer parts on top are completely white. Then he looks to see what she's done around his eyes. There's purple over his lids and around them. He has to admit, it doesn't look bad. Looks pretty good even! The color makes his eyes look deeper and more brooding.

"So what do you think?" Sweets asks him. "I just figured purple for you. I mean," she brushes aside a piece of her pastel hair. "I'm kinda partial to purple anyway, but this one's different. Sorta like your Wimpod? And hey! You gotta have some kinda color, right?"

There's just one thing missing. Guzma takes the sunglasses he'd kept from the night they'd broke into the clothing store out of his pocket and places them up on his forehead. Now everything is as he wants it. He grins at his reflection then up at her. "Looks fuckin' awesome, Sweets. Thanks."

She gives him a wide smile. "Good! Looks like you're one of us warehouse kids now. Come on! Gotta show my work to the others."

As they leave, Guzma glances back at the black hair that's fallen to the floor - a bit of weight gone from his shoulders. Maybe it was time to not give a fuck.


End file.
